


Scapegoat

by Haospart



Series: Regrets of the Protectors (Frey Hawke) [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Blood Mage Hawke (Dragon Age), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Extortion, Family Anger Match, Frey's existed for about 3 days and already he has the Worst time, Guilt, Hawke feels responsible for all the things he can't control and it's not good for him, Jealous Carver is Jealous, Mage Hawke (Dragon Age), Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Survivor Guilt, but HAWKE is jealous too, guilt complex, welcome to 'ela can't start a series for dragon age without first posting character analysis'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:07:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26694997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haospart/pseuds/Haospart
Summary: Carver's been jealous of Hawke being the favorite for forever.  What he doesn't seem to grasp is how wrong he is aboutwhothe favorite in the family really was.  Who was the real favorite, and who was just the scapegoat.Tl;dr this is my (apparently requisite) character analysis fic on my brand new mage boy, Frey Hawke.  Dude goes Off on Carver.
Series: Regrets of the Protectors (Frey Hawke) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1942588
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Scapegoat

"-and just because you're the  _ favorite _ -"

Carver didn't get any further as Frey cut him off, his voice breaking as he pushed it further than he had in a long time, throat burning from raising his voice even a little, "Is  _ that _ what you think this is? I'm not the  _ favorite _ . I've never  _ been _ the favorite! I'm the  _ scapegoat _ . Who gets blamed when things go wrong?  _ Hawke _ . Whose fault is it when people die?  _ Hawke.  _ Who couldn't protect his little sister? Who's responsible for Bethany's death?  _ I am.  _ And I can't even call myself a real scapegoat because it  _ is _ my fault."

" _ Frey _ -" Carver reached forwards, a hand outstretched tentatively towards his older brother.

Frey pulled in a breath, harsh with a sound like gravel, but soldiered on, "You get to be Carver. Bethany got to be  _ Bethany _ . But I'm  _ Hawke _ . I was supposed to keep you two  _ safe _ , and maybe if I wasn't like  _ this _ I could have," he gestured aggressively at himself, the long, shock-white hair that fell over his face and shoulders, his gaunt, almost frail features, his  _ gold _ , magic-touched eyes that forever were shadowed by the dark circles under them. 

He was small, in every sense of the word, bird-like, and even as he drew himself up to make himself look bigger in his anger, he still had to tilt his head upwards to look Carver in the eyes.

Tears gathered there, but refused to fall. He pulled in another mangled breath, dropping his voice to his normal volume, hardly anything more than a whisper, "If I hadn't been a mage, if I hadn't been so  _ small _ and  _ stupid _ , she'd be ok. We would have fought differently, I would have been closer, and we'd be  _ alive _ . All of us."

Carver stared at him, stunned.

"I can promise you, I haven’t been the favorite since before you were even  _ born _ . But you- You were  _ hope _ , you were  _ promise _ , you were everything our parents  _ wanted _ . I am here to be  _ loud _ to watch, to make a scene and draw attention. If you are living in my shadow it only means you are not the first target and I am  _ doing my job _ . I am  _ Hawke _ so you don't have to be and I am  _ Hawke _ so that you don't have to suffer my actions."

"Frey, I never asked-"

"No. You didn't. But you will get to be Carver as long as I breathe.  _ Carver _ is normal.  _ Carver _ is hope. But  _ Hawke _ is an _ apostate  _ and a  _ blood mage _ ."

"A… a  _ blood mage? _ "

"Yes, a  _ blood mage _ . I am  _ weak _ on my own, but I will not fail to protect again. I might burn, but I will  _ not _ have you burn with me."

Carver took a step forwards, something unreadable in his eyes as he looked down at his older brother. Something sad.

“Frey… It isn’t your fault,” his voice was low,  _ careful _ . What, was he scared of upsetting him? Of setting him off? He spoke like he was approaching a wounded deer, with the intent to untangle it from a stray snare. Gentler than he’d been in a long time.

Frey shook his head, frustrated, “It  _ is _ my fault. It’s all my fault. All of it. It’s  _ my _ fault Bethany’s dead. It’s  _ my _ fault the templars are after us. It will be  _ my _ fault if you’re locked up for my magic, and it’ll be  _ my _ fault if we lose everything because I’m a damned blood mage, and it’s  _ my  _ fault that I’ve been-” he cut himself off and put a hand over his mouth, biting down on his lip.

“That you’ve been  _ what _ ?” oh that was a  _ dangerous _ edge in Carver’s voice.

“I think I’ve said enough today.”

“Oh no you don’t, you don’t get to drop that sort of thing and leave it there,” Carver pushed. He took another step forward, into Frey’s space, but the subtlety of care had gone away, “What happened?”

“I’ve said too much. Leave it be.”

“ _ No _ . I’m not going to leave it be. Have you been hurt?”

“No.”

“Have you been threatened?”

“... No,” he paused too long. Carver caught on immediately.

“You  _ have,  _ haven’t you?”

“ _ No _ .”

“Then  _ what _ ? What is it that you think is your fault?” Frustration was getting the better of him. He wouldn’t be able to keep a lid on his temper much longer, and boiling over would only escalate the situation.

The diplomatic answer would perhaps be the easiest. He was being exploited, the fear of being dragged off to the Circle hanging over his head. He was sent out on an almost nightly basis to deal with the debt collectors and ‘contacts’ of someone he barely knew and was not allowed back home to sleep until he could provide proof of success. He’d received help once, broke and confessed to blood magic, and been paying for the keeping of his secrets ever since.

Instead, he opted for a harsher option, to leave his younger brother in the dark and hiss, none-too-delicately, not bothering to bother hiding his own anger, “I was stupid. I was  _ stupid _ , and I indebted myself to someone I shouldn’t have.  _ Leave it,  _ Carver.”

“But-”

“ _ Stop _ .”

With that, Frey turned away.  _ Hawke _ turned away. His shoulders shook and he took a shuddering, hiccupping breath in. When he spoke, his voice was watery and rough, thick like mud, “I need some air.”

“ _ Frey _ -”

“I’m  _ getting _ some  _ air _ .”

His tone broached no argument and he left without another word. He was out the door before Carver could say anything else. Before his own voice could catch in his throat, and before the tears that had threatened him could fall.

He left before his brother could see him cry.


End file.
